Labyrinth (35 page)

EPILOGUE

The hot water running over her body felt like someone was slowly dragging the finest silks of Persia over her skin. As Annja soaped, rinsed and relathered, she could scarcely believe that a few hours earlier she’d been trapped in that hellish prison underground.

Now, in this bed-and-breakfast in western Massachusetts, Annja was finally halfway to feeling human again. She and Kessel had flipped for the shower and Kessel had won. He’d gone first and shaved the rest of his hair off his scalp. It wasn’t normally a look Annja thought she’d go for, but seeing his gleaming dome under the fresh bandages later when he’d dressed, she had to admit he looked good.

Damned good. Amazing, really, considering everything he’d been through.

It had taken the FBI several hours to mobilize forces from the Boston, Worcester and even the Albany offices. By the time they arrived, the day was half-gone and Annja and Kessel were nearly starving to death.

The FBI had immediately gotten Kessel medical attention and he’d been patched up on-site by a mobile medical facility that they normally only rolled out in times of mass casualty incidents. When he’d emerged from the medical truck, Kessel already looked about a hundred percent better than he had earlier. Still far from perfect, but the onsite doctor hadn’t insisted on Kessel going to a hospital.

The question now was whether he was going to be able to go back to work with the Bureau or not. The doctors would still need time to determine if he had any lasting effects from the brain surgery he’d undergone. And then there were some concerns about his mental state, as well, given that he’d been subjected to such trauma.

Kessel had characteristically written off the PTSD concerns. “You know, I went on some really bad missions in Afghanistan. On one of them, we lost half the team. We got hunted and shot at for days while we waited for choppers to scream in and grab us. And after all of that, they subjected us to these interviews with the psychologist. You know what? The shrink scored higher as mentally troubled than we did.”

After his shower, Kessel had even felt rejuvenated enough to go find a place for them to eat. “Town like this has got to have a cute little bistro where we can enjoy a good bottle of wine and a meal together.”

Annja had relished being alone in the shower, feeling the spray of hot water and the joy of perfumed soaps. It went a long way toward helping her accept what she’d been subjected to in the maze.

She rinsed a final time and then grabbed the fluffy terry-cloth towel hanging on the rack, wrapped it around herself and then stepped out onto the thick bathroom rug. The bed-and-breakfast wasn’t large, but it was luxurious. And all of it paid for by the Bureau. Kessel’s handler had given him his credit card and told him to go wild.

Annja thought that was the least they could do for Kessel after everything he’d endured throughout the course of his two-year assignment.

There was no way to recover the bodies left behind in the maze, however. Short of excavating the entire facility, they would have to stay where they were. Most likely, they’d been incinerated, anyway. As one of the agents said, with the heat as strong as it was, everything would have melted and fell in on itself.

Annja shrugged. No longer her concern.

Her more immediate concern was what to wear tonight to dinner. She’d asked the B and B owner if she had an outfit she might borrow to change into after her shower. Annja planned to go shopping in town for something of her own to wear. To her surprise, the owner had outfitted Annja with a cashmere turtleneck in heather gray, a pair of black slacks and a pair of black heels.

Simple, but elegant.

Annja slid into the new bra and panties that one of the female FBI agents had gotten for her. They weren’t her usual style, but the white lace looked good on her. And while Annja wasn’t a huge fan of boy shorts, she had to admit they were comfortable enough.

As soon as she pulled on the rest of her clothes, she checked herself over in the mirror.

“Not bad, Creed,” she said quietly. And the chances were high Kessel would feel the same way.

It was virtually guaranteed, she thought. Kessel would love the outfit.

Annja sat on the bed and allowed her eyes to close for a moment. Just to lay there without any concerns whatsoever, it was heavenly.

But she had to be ready. Annja groaned and rolled off the bed. She wondered if maybe Kessel could be convinced to have dinner here instead. And then afterward, they could pass out and sleep for about a hundred years.

Yes, that would work.

In the bathroom, Annja switched on the blow dryer. As she blew her hair dry, the heat relaxed her even more.

Was that the door?

She switched off the dryer. “Kessel?”

No answer.

Annja frowned. And turned toward the door. A man stood there pointing a pistol at her. Even with a wig on, Annja could tell it was Fairclough.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Fairclough eyed her. “You betrayed me.”

“And when did I ever swear loyalty to you? Never. So I can’t really have betrayed you, Fairclough. I let you think you were calling all the shots. Just like you’d been doing the entire time I was trapped in that damned maze of yours.”

Fairclough shook his head. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“But you didn’t. And look what that mistake cost you. Pretty much everything, near as I can figure it.”

“Shut up!” Fairclough pulled the hammer back on the pistol. “Look at you standing there. As if you don’t have a care in the world.”

“Well, actually, I don’t. Except maybe for the fact that there’s a gun pointed at my chest.”

“And I intend to use it,” Fairclough said. “To kill you for what you’ve done to me and my family.”

Annja shook her head. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Want to know what I think? That we never did meet before. That you never really were around me or that I ever killed your brother. I think you were after the sword the entire time. That maybe you heard about the sword and decided that it might just be the key to giving you incredible power or granting you immortality or something like that. Do you really believe that if you kill me you can finally wield the sword?”

For a moment, Fairclough didn’t say anything. Then he smiled. “Well, perhaps you’ll never find out what the truth is, Annja. Because it will be too late when you’re dead.”

Behind Fairclough the door opened and Kessel walked in. Immediately realizing what was happening, he dove and tackled Fairclough.

“Kessel, no!” she yelled. “Your head!”

The pistol dropped to the floor. Annja went for it, but Fairclough kicked it away from her. Kessel got him on the ground and then drove three punches into the old man’s face, shattering his nose.

But Fairclough wasn’t done. He pulled out a knife and slashed it across Kessel’s belly, drawing blood. Kessel fell off him, clutching at his stomach.

And then Fairclough dove for the pistol. His hand wrapped around it and he came up, already aiming at Kessel’s head.

“Fairclough!”

He turned and was immediately flung backward by the sword Annja had thrown at him. It plunged into Fairclough’s chest and pinned him to the opposite wall.

Annja stood there heaving as Fairclough looked down at the blade jutting out of his chest and died.

“You wanted the sword so badly,” Annja said. “Now you’ve got it.”

Kessel got to his feet.

Annja rushed over. “Are you all right?”

Kessel nodded. “Cut wasn’t deep, but it hurts.”

“I meant your head.”

He just smiled and shrugged, then looked around. “I think we’re going to need a new room, huh?”

T
HE
MANSION
WAS
palatial by even the most demanding standards. Indeed, had its owner been forthcoming and open, monarchs and presidents might have enjoyed the hospitality within it. But the mansion was more like a secluded fortress.

Roux paced the floor expectantly. His phone hadn’t rung in more than twenty-four hours and the person who should have been calling him had failed to miss his most recent check-in time.

His butler entered the drawing room, passing by the elaborate jewel-encrusted artifacts that Roux had spent much of his elongated existence collecting and hoarding. “Sir?”

Roux turned. He liked the irony of a Frenchman keeping an English butler. “What is it?”

“A telephone call, sir.”

“From Fairclough?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Will you take it in here or outside?”

Roux frowned. “In here.” He walked to the massive oak desk in one corner near the fireplace and sat in the well-worn leather chair. He leaned back and waited. The phone buzzed quietly and he picked it up.

“Yes?”

“It’s Garin.”

Roux’s frown deepened. “And what the devil do you want?”

“I just thought you’d be interested in a little information that I came across.”

“And what’s that?”

“Seems like there was a rather massive fire at an underground facility in Massachusetts yesterday. Some sort of maze that imploded on itself. But that’s not the most unusual thing. Want to know what is?”

Roux gripped the receiver tighter. “Yes.”

“Seems the man who owned it—man by the name of Fairclough—turned up dead yesterday afternoon at a small bed-and-breakfast a few miles away from this inferno. Can you imagine? I mean, what are the chances of that happening?”

“I don’t follow you, Garin. If you’ve got a point to make, I wish you would do so. I’m quite busy here.”

“Busy waiting for a phone call that you’re never going to get,” Garin said. “Imagine how Annja would feel if she knew about your connection to Fairclough? I think she’d be upset, don’t you?”

“She need never know about it,” Roux snapped.

“You still want it, don’t you?”

Roux said nothing.

“After all this time, you still want that sword,” Garin continued. “Even though it’s hers, you want it. And this man Fairclough was supposed to find a way to get it for you, wasn’t he?’

Roux could feel his anger rising. “You really shouldn’t make accusations you can’t prove.”

“You’re right,” Garin said. “I can’t prove it. But I don’t really need to, either. Do I? Because a few words in Annja’s ear will be all it takes for her to figure out exactly who was behind this. I don’t imagine she’ll be all that thrilled with you once she hears of it.”